


Wake up. Snooze. Repeat.

by holograms



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Communication Failure, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Talk less," Aaron says. "Sleep more."</p><p>a series of non-linear instances where Hamilton makes sure that Burr gets no sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake up. Snooze. Repeat.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esteliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/gifts).



> I loved your idea about there being many reasons why Hamilton would wake Burr up in the middle of the night! It wouldn't let me go until I treated it :)

**number one.**

Aaron knows that he should be used to Alexander waking him up at all hours of the night for whatever reason — the mundane, the personal, the _informal_ — however, even after all this time, Alexander still manages to surprise him.

“What do you need?” Aaron asks, but regrets it a moment later. He knows he needs to stop this — he makes himself too available for Alexander, and Alexander eagerly takes without regard. Aaron’s question is a loaded one because Alexander can ask for a _lot_ — he is insatiable. Aaron gets the feeling that no matter what he says or does, it’ll never be enough for Alexander, and there’s a part of Aaron that hates the idea of disappointing Alexander. 

He tries to remember when Alexander became so imperative in his life. He supposes that it was around the same time Alexander thought he could ask him for anything, and Aaron would let him have it.

He does not like being so dependent on another, where if they were to disappear, he would feel _less._

So Aaron decides to detach, and say _no_ to Alexander _._ Once he makes up his mind, it is easy — he wants no part in writing essays to defend the constitution, he does not want Alexander to lead him around and force his views upon him, he does not want to make himself even more vulnerable to Alexander.

It is not easy to look at Alexander when he sees how he crushed his spirits. It’s obvious that Alexander thought Aaron would answer differently.

“You’re making a mistake,” Alexander says, and the way he says it suggests more.

If Aaron agrees with him, he says nothing of it.

 

 

**number two.**

Aaron tries to ignore the insistent hiss of, “Burr, _Burr!_ ” in his ear, but it’s no use — he is fully awake, and he sighs and turns over in the bed to face Alexander. 

There are a lot of negatives working with Alexander — an ever-fluctuating temper, incessant diatribes, an abrasive personality that grinds his nerves, his neglect for appreciation of Aaron’s efforts — but perhaps the worst thing is sharing a bed while traveling for cases. Alexander is a fitful sleeper, apparently doesn’t understand the concept of staying on his portion of the bed, gets up too often to pee, and he will _not_ shut up. Aaron is almost ready to pay for an extra room just to not have to deal with Alexander’s sleeping habits. 

“Are you awake, Burr?” Alexander asks. The room is dark, but Aaron can feel his wide brown eyes peering at him. “Hey,” Alexander says, and lightly pushes at Aaron’s shoulder.

Aaron gives up. “I _was_ asleep,” he mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What is so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the morning?”

There’s a quiet moment, and Aaron is ready to push Alexander out of the bed if he woke him up for nothing, but then Alexander quietly says, “I just wanted to tell you that you did a good job today. In court.”

Suddenly, Aaron is very aware of Alexander’s presence next to him. He can feel the steady inhale and exhale of Alexander’s breathing, every single breath. He feels him trying not to fidget, but failing and is shaking his foot. He feels the pressure of his body near his. His knees are touching his.

“Talk less,” Aaron says. “Sleep more.”

 

 

**number three.**

“I’m going off to war,” Aaron tells him. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

He knows that Alexander is anxious. He’s desperate to find a position to bring him to prosperity, as is Aaron — they are on the precipice of opportunity. It all depends on who can snatch it up first. Alexander had rushed over to Aaron’s and banged on his door, angry that he had to hear from Lafayette that Aaron is taking the leap.

Aaron would say that Alexander almost seems _offended._

It’s evident that Aaron’s news is troubling Alexander. His expression is the embodiment of perplexed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly parted and there’s a slight _hurt_ in his eyes.

But when Alexander asks him in a desperate, quiet voice, “Will I see you again?” it’s not what Aaron expects at all.

“Of course,” Aaron says immediately, although there is no way he can promise it with certainty.

(It feels like they will meet again.)

They shake hands. After a few moments, Aaron releases his hold of Alexander’s hand but Alexander lingers — he twists his hand so he can intertwine his fingers with Aaron’s and he rubs small circles in Aaron’s palm with his thumb. Aaron feels the urge to jerk his hand away but he just _can’t_ when he sees the stricken way Alexander is looking at him. 

“Until we meet again,” Aaron says.

Alexander lets his hand fall, and nods. “Until we meet again.”

 

**number four.**

He’s dozing in front of the fire when he hears Alexander at the door. There’s no doubt that it’s him — nobody else is insane enough to call on him in the middle of the night.

Even though Alexander’s late night visits are sparse, now.

“Go on a walk with me?” Alexander asks, and even though he knows he should Aaron doesn't say no — he just grabs his coat and follows Alexander out the door.

They walk in silence around the quiet city. There’s the temptation to grab Alexander’s hand, to admit that they’re both idiots, and work to make them all right, because the heaviness in his soul that is their feud makes him sick.

But he doesn’t. It’s too little, too late. Alexander is left damaged by his pursuits, and Aaron suffers the consequences of them. They can never be what they once were.

Instead he just asks, “What do you want, Alexander?” He tries to sound as blasé as possible, but they both know his put-upon indifference is a farce. 

Alexander stops in his tracks, as if his thoughts are so complicated has to cut off all other operations to gather them. Aaron pauses with him and watches as Alexander struggles, combating with his words. When Aaron is about to turn to leave, Alexander blurts out his confession—

“I miss you,” Alexander says.

Aaron takes a chance. “I miss you, too,” he says, because he _does_ and he has felt the absence of Alexander every moment since the disillusionment of their partnership.

“But is that enough?” Alexander asks, and Aaron wants to tell him that _yes_ it is enough, as long as there’s a chance, it will be okay, that they can fix this, but—

—he falters. Hesitates.

Alexander catches it. His eyes darken, and Aaron swears he can physically feel it when he tears his gaze away from him.

“I suppose it isn’t enough,” Alexander says.

“If you say so."

Aaron is finished with waiting for Alexander.

 

 

 **five.**

The heat of their rented room is unbearable. The night is hot and sweltering, and the air hangs heavy, humid, and difficult to breathe — it is damn near impossible to get comfortable, let alone sleep. 

Aaron curses this trial, and all of Virginia. And then Alexander for good measure.

He has just managed to drift off to sleep, when Alexander jolts him awake by kicking him in the shin.

“Shit, sorry,” Alexander says, but apparently he isn’t too sorry because he kicks Aaron again.

Aaron slides open his eyes. With the moonlight that’s streaming into the room, he can see Alexander in the process of what looks like a fight against the mattress. He's kicked the blanket to the floor (it had been bunched up at the foot of the bed unused, anyway) and tosses and turns and doesn't even realize when he kicks Aaron again.

Aaron about to ask him what his problem is when Alexander lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Aaron blinks. “What can’t you do— _oh_.” Aaron’s speech is cut off when he sees Alexander stripping himself of his nightshirt. 

“It’s too _hot_ ,” Alexander whines, and then he goes to pull the shirt over his head, but it catches around his neck because he’s struggling with the sleeves. 

Aaron closes his eyes. “Aren’t you from the Caribbean?” he asks. For a moment, Aaron feels Alexander still. He hopes that maybe Alexander has the sense to not make this uncomfortable for the both of them, and not disrobe.

“I suppose your non-sequitur is implying that I should be able to tolerate a little bit of _heat_ ,” Alexander says in a clipped tone. “But this is not simple heat. This is the depths of hell, the air is saturated with water, I can feel myself slowly melting away, I always knew that Virginia would be the death of me—” 

“There’s no need to be so dramatic, Alexander.”

Beside him, Alexander huffs, and kicks Aaron — this time harder, and Aaron swears it’s on _purpose_.

“Hey!” Aaron says, his eyes snapping open, and when he looks at Alexander he sees that he’s grinning mischievously.

“Serves you right,” Alexander says, and then he finishes taking off his shirt, tosses it to the floor, and then flops back onto the bed and lets out a long, relaxed sigh. “There. That’s much better.”

Aaron swallows. Alexander makes himself comfortable and obviously has no shame — he’s lying akimbo on his back, his limbs spread out, and without regard for exposing himself. Aaron glares at him, taking in his messy bed-tangled hair, his blissed-out face, the shiny sheen on his skin, the dark trail of hair on his stomach that leads down—

Aaron averts his eyes, and stares at the ceiling.

But it’s too late — Alexander saw him looking, and goddamn him, really.

Alexander rolls onto his front and leans toward Aaron, his face only a few inches away.

“It’s okay, Burr,” Alexander says. “I know you’re interested. We both have to stop lying about what’s happened.”

Aaron bites his lip and doesn’t dare look at him.

Alexander continues. “Why don’t you get comfortable, too?” he asks, playing with Aaron’s collar, slipping a finger in and brushing it against his neck. “You deserve it.” His voice is suggestive, luring. 

Despite himself, Aaron nods. He blames he heat.

Alexander wastes no time — he sits up with his legs tucked under him and leans across Aaron’s body to grab the hem of his nightshirt from where it’s resting hiked up at his knees. He pauses for a moment and shoots a glance to Aaron to meet his eyes, like he’s asking for permission one last time because he can’t quite believe it, and Aaron gruffly says, “If you’re going to, go on,” because honestly, this is so frustrating. Aaron is aware this is a bad idea — he’s tried to deny the tension between them since _then_ (neither have spoken about that afternoon in a tent at Monmouth), but it’s hard to ignore it when Alexander looks at him the way he does — covetously, like he’s the only thing he wants — and grazes his hands against Aaron’s thighs as he lifts his shirt, and smiles wickedly when he sees that Aaron is already half hard.

Aaron lifts his hips so Alexander can continue to undress him. He wants Alexander to hurry, because it feels hotter in the room than it did a few minutes ago and Alexander is taking too long — his hands are passing over him infernally slow, torturous, but it’s a rarity that he does anything at a leisurely pace so Aaron indulges in the careful attention he’s giving him.

Finally, Alexander tugs Aaron’s nightshirt over his head and throws it aside to join his on the floor. Then, he lies down next to Aaron, stretching out and aligning his body with his.

“That’s better,” Alexander says, and he presses closer to Aaron. And okay, maybe Alexander had a point because the breeze from the open window cools the sweat on his skin, but Aaron is extremely aware of their nudity — their skin sticks together where it touches, and Alexander’s hair is in his face, and when Alexander shifts Aaron feels Alexander's erection rut against his thigh.

“There’s something else I can do to make you sleep better,” Alexander says, and Aaron barks out a laugh because that’s just like him, to make something seem like a benefit for him when really it has a self-serving advantage. He wants to tell him no, shake him off and tell him to get dressed, but Alexander licks a stripe on his neck that makes Aaron shiver and then he says, “ _Please_ ,” and, well. Aaron is convinced.

Afterward, they’re both left hotter, but it’s well worth it — the post-sex haze lets them sleep tangled against each other through the entire night.

 

 

 **number six.**  

When Aaron sees Alexander next to him when he wakes, he thinks he’s hallucinating him. It’s not unlikely — his mind is still addled from the heatstroke and he’s been through hell — but as he comes more to his senses, he realizes that it really is Alexander. He would recognize that voice anywhere, and he finds that he isn’t upset that he was dragged from sleep. 

Alexander is a welcome respite from the war — he is hope, personified.

For a moment, he watches Alexander. They are alone in the medical tent, and Alexander hasn’t yet noticed that Aaron is awake — he sits hunched over in a chair at his bedside and mutters at papers like they’ll explain themselves if he asks nicely enough. Aaron smiles when he sees Alexander run a hand against the back of his neck and flick his ponytail up — a nervous habit of his that Aaron picked up on not long after he met him.

“I told you I’d see you again,” Aaron says, but his voice is hoarse and only every other word comes out. Regardless, it gets Alexander’s attention — he startles and his papers fall to the floor, forgotten.

“Burr!” Alexander shouts, and moves closer to Aaron, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Thank God you’re okay. I saw your name on the injured list and I had to check on you. I made sure you’re getting the best treatment and a private tent, I told the doctor the General ordered it, even though between you and me, he didn’t…but don’t let that discourage you! I’m sure he’d want it, he’s just too busy and he doesn’t know and fuck, it’s so bad, Burr. There are so many dead and—”

Aaron waves his hand to silence him. He tries to talk, but his words get caught in his throat and he starts coughing.

“Oh, here,” Alexander says, and he fumbles at his side and picks up a canteen. As he helps Aaron sit up and tilt the canteen towards his mouth, he says, “I promise it’s clean water,” which is quite amazing, since Aaron knows it’s in short supply.

Aaron takes greedy gulps of the water, some of it running down his chin as he drinks, and he swears that nothing has ever tasted so good. 

“Careful,” Alexander says, and he supports Aaron’s head with a solid hand behind his neck. Aaron closes his eyes and just when he’s relaxing into Alexander’s touch, Alexander pulls the canteen away. Aaron makes a low whining noise that he’s not too proud of, and then licks his lips to catch the last of the water that remains there.

There’s an unreadable expression on Alexander’s face. His stare is uncomfortable, and Aaron is desperate to escape from it, so he clears his throat and finds his voice to ask, “What are you really doing here?”

It works — Alexander blinks, breaking that terseness, and then frowns. It’s akin to sulking.

“I want to help you,” Alexander says, and he grabs Aaron’s arm, like he _has_ to make him believe it. “You're too stressed. Let me help.” 

Aaron is about to tell him that there’s nothing that can help him, but then Alexander’s hand slips under the sheet and rests on his leg. Alexander bites at his bottom lip, like he’s unsure, and it’s such a foreign look on him that it intrigues Aaron beyond fascination.

“I want you to feel better,” Alexander says, and he inches his hand up Aaron’s thigh, fingers tapping an unheard rhythm on his bare skin. Aaron twitches at his touch, but doesn’t push him away — he lets Alexander roam his body and do as he pleases, as always. 

“Do you wish me to stop?” Alexander quietly asks, which is ridiculous because he’s got Aaron hard and gripped in his hand and entirely at his mercy.

“No,” Aaron says. He supposes that he goes along with it because Alexander appears to be as lonely and miserable as him, or maybe because he’s the one person who he understands but doesn’t understand at all. Or perhaps it’s just a way to _get_ something from Alexander.

Whatever it is, it’s a damn fine indulgence.

Alexander works him with efficient, firm jerks that are aimed to bring him off fast. He keeps looking over his shoulder, like he’s afraid someone will walk in on them in this comprising position — that would be something, for everyone to know that Washington’s right hand man is servicing another man, a colonel no less. 

He doesn’t give Alexander the courtesy of telling him when he’s about to come, and he’s sure to watch Alexander’s face when he spills into his hand. Alexander is surprised, but only for a moment — he tilts his head at Aaron, as if he’s intrigued, and then strokes him through the rest of his orgasm.

Afterward, Alexander wipes his hand on the tattered blanket.

“Write me sometime,” he tells Aaron.

Aaron does not miss the bulge pressing against the front of Alexander’s breeches. 

Later, Aaron does try to write to him, but he crumbles every letter he starts. There’s nothing he could say to him that could describe the conflict within him. He’s sure that Alexander doesn’t feel the same — for him, he’s just a convenience.

 

 

**seven.**

“Hey,” he hears Alexander say, and when he blinks awake he’s in a bed that’s not his own.

No — he’s in Alexander’s bed, the same one that he shares with his wife, and it’s the same one he’s tainted with another lover, and now he’s shared it with Aaron, too.

He knows it should make him feel even more awful than it does. 

“We should talk about it,” Aaron says, but Alexander shakes his head.

“There’s nothing to it,” Alexander says. “You came over. We fought. We fucked. That’s it.”

Aaron opens his mouth to reply, but Alexander presses his mouth to his to silence him.

“Besides,” Alexander says, “you always said _talk less_.”

Aaron does not mention that not talking has got them in this situation.

 

 

**number eight.**

“There are other ways to wake me up other than slamming a book on my desk,” Aaron mutters, eyeing the heavy volume on the desk surface that Alexander had just used to disturb his sleep. Aaron is surprised he fell asleep at his desk — that’s usually something Alexander does — but he’s been working long hours lately, and is at a continual state of exhaustion. 

He blames Alexander. 

“Oh?” Alexander says, and it’s _teasing_ — he rubs his thumb against Aaron’s cheek, and Aaron can’t miss the fondness of it. “Then tell me how you would like to be woken up by me.”

“Never,” Aaron says, and he looks away from Alexander, just to spite him. “I wish you’d leave me in peace.”

Alexander _tsks_ at him, and calls him a liar. He pushes himself up on the desk and sits in front of Aaron and spreads his legs seductively, and then reaches forward and drags Aaron closer to him so that he’s between his thighs. He brackets Aaron’s face between his hands and forces Aaron to look at him, and then he leans in and kisses him and Aaron lets him, lets him, lets him.

“I’ll never leave you in peace,” Alexander promises against his lips.

Aaron hopes this is true — because he can’t shake the feeling that it would be easy to lose Alexander.

 

 

**number nine.**

Aaron only met Alexander Hamilton today, and he’s already causing Aaron all sorts of problems — first stalking him across the city, then insulting him out in front of others, and now coming into his home drunk and waking him up at four in the morning.

Aaron had almost forgotten that he had invited Alexander to stay with him for the night. But here he is, staggering in his bedroom, and _shouting._ There’s a certain wildness to his eyes, like a spark ignited, and he won’t shut up about revolution. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Aaron says. He’ll say anything to get the man to stop.

It seems to quell Alexander’s enthusiasm. He sits on the edge of Aaron’s bed and takes off his boots, and says, “Thanks for letting me stay with you, Aaron Burr, sir,” and then he breaks into a fit of giggles. “Hey, that rhymes!”

Aaron crosses his arms in front of him. “How astute. Now would you please—oh no you don’t!” 

He tries to stop Alexander, but it’s too late — the strange immigrant is now lying in his bed, halfway to sleep already. Aaron pushes at him, saying, “You smell like a brewery,” but Alexander doesn’t budge.

Aaron sighs. He lies down next to Alexander — he won’t let him oust him from his bed — and determines to discuss this with him in the morning.

It turns out he doesn’t need to, however; Alexander moves in with Mulligan the next day.

He tries to shake the feeling that he’s missing out on something.

 

 

**ten.**

Alexander is dreaming.

Aaron wakes up to Alexander whimpering and thrashing beside him, entrapped by the clutches of an unknown terror Aaron cannot see. Alexander has nightmares often, but doesn’t speak of them — except for once, when Aaron begged for him to tell him:

“In my dreams, I’m dying,” Alexander had said, and Aaron asked nothing more of it.

He hates to see Alexander in pain, especially when he submits to it so freely. He doesn’t deserve it — neither of them do.

There’s the compulsion to grab Alexander and shake him awake, to save him from his horrors. Instead, he reaches forward and strokes the side of Alexander’s face, and gently rubs his wrinkled brow with his thumb until Alexander begins to relax at his touch and quiet his anxious mutterings. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Aaron whispers, and a few seconds later Alexander stirs from sleep.

He’s met with Alexander’s sleepy smile — a wonderful thing.

“Thanks,” Alexander says, and he nuzzles against Aaron’s hand. His voice still sounds tense, wound up from whatever plagues him, so Aaron moves his hand into his hair, running his fingers through dark locks and lightly scratching at his scalp. It’s a way to soothe him, and sure enough, a few seconds later Alexander is making a humming noise and looks positively content. 

He can’t help but kiss him, and Alexander returns it, just as ardently.

If someone had told Aaron that he and Alexander would end up this way, he never would have believed them. 

 

 

 **click boom.**  

Aaron would have never believed that he and Alexander would end up this way.

Aaron had thought for sure that Alexander would call it off. 

For once, _he_ wanted to be the one arranging the circumstances between them, and to put an end to this push-pull relationship that has been threatening to tear them apart. Someone had to do it, and, well.

Alexander did not back down. 

The night before their scheduled duel, Aaron dozes off, and dreams of he and Alexander at the dueling grounds. There’s the lucid sensation of knowing he’s dreaming but he cannot do anything about it — and he is left powerless as he sees himself kill Alexander, shooting him in the chest as Alexander aims towards the sky.

He wakes up yelling, “ _Wait!_ ”

It feels like an omen.

He cannot lose Alexander, not like that — he cannot knowingly let him slip away, when he can do something about it, and— 

—that’s when it hits him. This is his call to action. That it doesn’t matter if they are imperfect, but together, it’s enough. 

This time, Aaron is the one to wake up Alexander. Or perhaps he hadn't been sleeping at all — he looks tired, tired of Aaron, tired of life, tired of everything.

“I can’t be without you,” Aaron says in a rush, and he has to gather all the courage he has to say the rest. “I don’t make it a habit to let people close to my heart because I don’t want to be disappointed when I lose them, because people _will_ leave, they always do, and I was too afraid of losing you to realize that I was sabotaging what I had and I was losing you anyway, and even though you annoy the hell out of me and take things too personally and wake me up in the middle of the night for stupid things, I _like_ you and I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I know you get upset with me because I don’t commit to things, but I…I will commit to this. Us. However it can work.”

He’s breathless when he’s finished, and he stares down Alexander and waits for his response. Alexander doesn’t say anything; he’s wide-eyed and hanging onto the doorframe and obviously at a loss, so Aaron probes, asking, “Well?”

Alexander’s mouth hitches into a smile.

“Well, it’s a start,” Alexander says, and he grabs the lapels of Aaron’s coat and pulls him towards him. “I suppose it’s safe to say that we have negotiated a peace?”

“Yes,” Aaron says, and for the first time, he is content.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering the chronological order of which they occur: 9, 3, 6, 2, 5, 10, 8, 1, 7, 4, clickboom.


End file.
